


Let's Make Lasting Impressions

by raineraine



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: A little bit of everything, Artist Steve Rogers, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Is Kinky, Drawing, Established Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Established Relationship, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Fluffy Ending, Hotel Sex, I Ship It, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Lingerie Kink, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Smut, Some Humor, Some Plot, Some Sex, Steve Draws Everything, Steve Rogers Feels, Stucky - Freeform, Top Steve Rogers, Trust Me There's Some Plot, men in lingerie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 08:20:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12317289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raineraine/pseuds/raineraine
Summary: Bucky Barnes does not do public appearances. Steve Rogers can be persuaded to ditch them, with a little convincing.





	Let's Make Lasting Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> This just kind of happened. If you love fics about Steve drawing, this one's for you. 
> 
> As always, @h34rt1lly is the best beta.

“Remind me again why we had to come here?” Bucky muttered against Steve’s temple, masking his boredom under the guise of affection for anyone who might be looking their way.

 

“For good press, you know that.” Steve’s eyes don’t leave the reporters that are flitting around the room, pads in hand and photographers in tow, determined to get something about the Avengers that can be spun into a story.

 

Tony and Natasha always were naturals, soaking in the attention and flashing smiles for every photograph, giving the right interview answers to keep them guessing. Four years later, reporters still made Steve nervous;  he was still left wondering where the balance between honesty and mystery was supposed to exist. The twenty-first century was confusing enough before Maria suggested everyone take this cross-country tour to make amends.

 

“Because we’re really talking to the press,” Bucky snorted, picking up the remnants of his drink and downing it. “I’m leaving.”

 

“You can’t just decide to bow out early,” Steve argued, turning around to finish his thought-- only to find that Bucky had already ghosted, leaving him alone in the corner to fight off the press himself. “I stand corrected. I guess you can,” he muttered to the empty air.

 

“Steve Rogers!” A blonde woman was waving at him, a broad grin on her face that made her look that much more like a predator. “Can you spare a moment?”

 

“Of course,” Steve said graciously, flashing his patented Captain America grin. “Anything for a fan.”

 

“I thought I saw Mister Barnes here just a moment ago? My eyes must deceive me.”

 

“He’s suffering from a migraine,” Steve managed cooly, not quite meeting her eyes. “He felt terrible to beg off early, as I’m sure you can understand.”

 

“Terrible,” the woman agreed shortly, waving to a photographer. “I was hoping to get a picture of the two of you. Could I get one of you instead?”

 

“Sure thing. Where do you need me?”

 

“Here will do,” the photographer interjected. “Could you rest your hand on the table and tuck the other in your pocket? Yes, just there. That suit sure brings out your eyes, Captain, and this lighting is spectacular.”  
  
Steve didn’t answer, only moving as instructed and holding his smile until the camera lowered. “If you two could excuse me, I need to speak to Clint,” he shrugged apologetically and stepped aside without waiting for a response. Pulling out his phone as he crossed the floor, Steve noted that he had a message. Ducking into the bathroom, at the risk of being photographed ignoring the guests and hearing about it from Maria later, he tapped on the screen.

 

_Picture Message from Bucky Barnes_

 

Biting back a laugh, Steve recalled the reason he’d had to beg Natasha to show him how to remove picture previews from his lock screen. One embarrassing instance of Bucky sending him a less-than-safe-for-public picture while Steve had been out getting coffee, causing him to nearly drop his phone square in his cup. Nat had grabbed it just before it hit the surface, smirking when she looked at his screen. “You might want to change your settings, Rogers.”

 

It didn’t matter now, shut in the private (and grossly oversized) hotel bathroom, door locked firmly behind him. Steve sat in the armchair, wondering idly why a bathroom really needed a _chair_ and considered if he should open it or not. The phone vibrated in his grasp, seeming falsely insistent, with another message.

 

_(2) Picture Messages from Bucky Barnes_

 

Leave it to Bucky to be persistent. Unlocking the phone, Steve clicked upon Bucky’s chat thread, wondering what he should expect. When it came to his boyfriend, there was no way to predict a damn thing. The first picture was dark, a bit unclear until Steve clicked to enlarge it, studying the details. It seemed like a strip of lace. Puzzled, Steve enlarged the second picture, noting that it was a pair of stocking-clad feet propped up on the desk in their room. Another buzz, delivering a picture of Bucky’s smirk, laying in bed against the pillows with the top button of his shirt undone and tie missing.

 

 _Sheer socks?_ Steve replied, shaking his head and wondering if he should bother to go back out. He had to, at some point, even if it was just to escape to their room. Towering over just about everyone else had its perks at times, but this wasn’t one of them. Height or no height, it probably wouldn’t do to occupy a bathroom until everyone had emptied out of the banquet room.

 

Hauling himself out of the chair, Steve resolved to avoid eye contact, tugging open the door and taking long strides until he reached the hall. Another buzz of his phone, leaving him groaning as he ducked to the side of a vending machine to see what Bucky could possibly want now.

 

The location was clear enough to Steve, with the desk a tip-off that Bucky was standing in front of the door to the room’s coat closet, the only space with a full-length mirror. Taking in the subject was another story. The angle was such that Steve could only see from the waist-down, Bucky’s hand gripping the phone barely visible at his hips.

 

It was with this photo that Steve realized Bucky wasn’t wearing socks, but rather stockings, hooked to a garter belt. The straps on his thighs were enough to give him a jolt, and his posture stiffened further still at the clash of the belt’s delicate lace against the masculine shapes of Bucky’s thighs. A hand was obscuring what Steve really wanted to see.

 

 _What are you playing at?_ Steve texted, shifting his legs as he tried to compensate for his half-hard cock.

 

Bucky didn’t give him an immediate response, but another picture instead, delivered a minute later. This was similar to the first, taken in the full length mirror, but this time Steve had the thrill of a full view. One hand was pushing back into Bucky’s hair, the other holding his phone, showing the outfit in all of its glory. Steve could see everything now-- the hard lines of Bucky’s torso, the curve of a cock that was barely contained under satin panties, the garter belt tugged a little higher to sit under his navel.

 

Bucky was beautiful. He always had been to Steve, their whole lives. But there, like this, Steve wanted more than just a picture. _Stay dressed,_ Steve tapped out the order shakily, taking a deep breath to steady himself. _I’m going to draw you in that,_ he clarified in another text before tucking the phone away into the breast pocket of his jacket.

 

* * *

 

When Steve opened the door to their room, Bucky wasn’t in his line of sight. When Steve took another step inside, it was easier to make out the outline just outside of the French doors that opened to the balcony. Bucky was wrapped in one of the plush robes Steve had seen in the bathroom earlier that day, smoking, with hair tousled and lying just over his forehead. He didn’t turn away from surveying the street below, undoubtedly already knowing that it was only Steve. Even before the serum, Bucky had always had a sixth sense when it came to Steve’s presence.

 

He was a sight, even while dressed.

 

Steve didn’t step closer. Instead, he shrugged off his jacket, hanging it in the closet that seemed to be half the size of the room. Rolling up his sleeves, Steve reached for the sketchbook he had left sitting on the desk earlier in the evening. It was still open to the half-finished page of Bucky pulling a straight razor up his throat. It could wait. There were other things to look at right now.

 

Stacking the pillows against the tufted headboard, Steve toed off his shoes and climbed onto the bed, settling with his knees pulled up to his chest. He didn’t say anything, leaving Bucky with his cigarette and his thoughts. Steve simply sketched, every stroke as languid as Bucky’s exhales.

 

It’s easy to lose track of time when he’s focusing on the page. Somewhere around the halfway point of his sketch, Steve heard faint strains of bass and piano from the open window. Bucky had since lit another cigarette, familiar with Steve’s desire to draw in the moment, and was minutely directing along to each fall of the tempo. A smile pulled at Steve’s lips, realizing they must have opened the ballroom doors, letting the music waft upwards to meet Bucky here.

 

Steve finished the sketch, quicker than he might have any other time, and crooked a finger at Bucky. “Come here,” Steve called softly. “Close the door.”

 

Bucky stubbed the remnants of the cigarette into the ashtray, stepping inside and closing the door behind him, checking the lock three times before he meets Steve’s eyes. “Didn’t think the robe was how y’ meant t’a draw me.”

 

Turning up the Brooklyn charm. Cheater.

 

“It wasn’t,” Steve allowed as he stood, stretching to pop his back before pulling at the waist tie of the robe. “But you looked so good in that moment.”

 

“You say that to me every day, you know,” Bucky all but purred as Steve slides the robe away from his shoulders.

 

“That’s because it’s always true,” Steve countered as he took in the sight of Bucky, in the flesh, instead of through a five inch screen. Letting out a low whistle, Steve takes a step back, eyes trailing from stocking-clad toes upwards, finally resting on Bucky’s smug grin.

 

“See anything you like, Rogers?” Bucky teased him.

 

“Everything.” Steve swallowed hard, knowing that if he touches now, he’d never get a chance to draw. “You wear it better than any pin-up girl I’ve ever seen.”

 

“That’s because you don’t like girls, Stevie,” Bucky taunted, cocking his head and laughing at Steve’s bewildered expression. “I shoulda thought of this sooner, judging by the look on your face.”

 

Steve shifted, trying to ignore the increased blood flow to his cock ever since he had slipped the robe aside. “I want to draw you. More.” God, his voice was tight. “I have an idea.”

* * *

 

Bucky watched as Steve pulled one of the chairs away from the wall in the sitting area, placing it in front of the balcony doors and drawing the gauzy curtains closed. It eased him, watching the artist’s mind at work, something Bucky rarely got to see in-progress. Steve pulled a lamp near the chair, placing it just to the right, and beckoned for Bucky to come and pose.

 

“Sit on the edge here,” Steve instructed gently, guiding Bucky to the position he wanted. “Back arched. Arms over your head. Good. Now head turned.” Nudging at Bucky’s chin so that Steve would have a view of his face, he nodded in affirmation, taking a step back to assess the set up. “But your legs…”

 

Bucky clicked his tongue to get Steve’s attention, stretching one leg out and pulling one up to bend at the knee. The pose felt fluid, though he couldn’t see it, like a natural mid-stretch. His shoulders were flush with the top of the chair’s back, and his arms were nearly brushing the curtains. “Like this?”

 

Steve nodded briefly, leaning over to grab his sketch pad once more and flipping to a clean page. “You’re so beautiful,” Steve said quietly, settling into a chair and checking his light once more. “Look at me.”

 

So Bucky did. He held, not knowing for how long, just watching Steve sketch him. There was something so erotic about being exposed to Steve like this-- exposed in a way that was more about vulnerability than it was about nudity. Even barely clothed, as he was now, there was nothing uncomfortable about Steve seeing his body. What made Bucky shiver was seeing Steve’s gaze linger, burning with a dualistic need: the artist and the lover.

 

 _Maybe that’s why they call it a muse,_ Bucky thought to himself.

 

When Steve pressed the book closed, sliding it to the coffee table beside his chair, it was all Bucky could do not to break his pose. Not out of discomfort, but out of need-- the burn of Steve’s gaze was back, making Bucky flush as Steve stood, loosening his tie.

 

“Stay,” Steve whispered, dropping the tie on the chair. “Just a little longer.”

 

Resisting the urge to squirm, Bucky held, eyes never leaving Steve’s hands as they unbuttoned his shirt at what seemed like an agonizingly slow pace. Everything was slow. Everything was burning. All he wanted was the touch of those hands against his skin.

 

“Steve,” Bucky muttered as the shirt was the next thing to fall into the chair, Steve’s hands working off his belt as Bucky watched. It was still hard to believe that they’d both lucked into the body Steve had now, enhanced in every way. Bucky didn't care much about their looks back then. He’d known his Stevie had pretty eyes and a righteous soul, and hands that made everything he drew into a masterpiece. “Touch me.”

 

Steve sucked in a harsh breath, stepping out of his pants to get closer to Bucky. As one of Steve’s hands landed on his hip, Bucky couldn’t hold any longer, twisting to sit up straighten and get a good look. Steve’s hand smoothed over his thigh, gliding over the stocking effortlessly, stopping to hook a finger under the strap of the garter belt. Plucking at it gently sent a snap against Bucky’s skin, leaving him unable to hold back a laugh.

 

“What’s so funny?” Steve was laughing himself, smiling at Bucky’s expression.

 

“It tickles,” Bucky admitted.

 

So Steve did it again.

 

“You’re a fuckin’ brat,” Bucky drawled as he swatted Steve’s hand away. “Play nice.”

 

Wordlessly, Steve pulled the chair he had been sitting in closer, enough that he could pull Bucky's foot into his lap. A sigh slipped through Bucky’s lips as Steve’s thumbs worked at his feet through the stockings, a pleasant pressure paired with the glide of the fabric. “Stevie, are you romancin’ me?”

 

“I’m sure trying, darlin’,” Steve affirmed as he patted Bucky’s leg in way of asking for the other foot. “You’re a hard one to impress.”

 

It always amazed Bucky, how they could slip away, back to flirting like teenagers. Maybe they were still making up for lost time. He sure as hell was soaking in the fact that they didn’t have to be afraid anymore. If someone were to walk in on them now, like this, the worst thing he’d have to worry about would be someone posting a picture that would be turned into every tumblr users’ new spank-bank addition. Life in the twenty-first century didn’t have to be all bad, press outings that bored him stiff not accounted for.

 

“What’s on your mind?” Steve asked, hands leaving Bucky’s foot in favor of resting on his shins, thumbs skating back and forth over the surface of the stocking like it was some kind of novelty.

 

“That even with all the shit we’ve been through, we’re pretty fuckin’ lucky,” Bucky told him softly as he pulled his feet away, sitting up straight to look at Steve’s face. “We could have never had all this back then, Stevie. We were always too scared. Living without that fear? Being free? That’s the luck I’m grateful for.”

 

Steve slid out of his chair, scooting across the floor to lean back against Bucky’s thigh, one hand reaching up to cup his chin. “You’re right. Sometimes I forget the benefits of waking up in a whole new world.”

 

Bucky pressed a kiss to Steve’s hair, his own bangs falling further in front of his eyes. “Every world is the right one if I have you here with me.”

 

Steve tilted his head back, slipping a hand from Bucky’s face to the back of his neck, attempting to tug him down. Bucky obliged, bending to meet Steve’s parted lips. Though he had been the one to instigate the teasing, this right here could be enough. The feel of Steve’s lips and the taste of his mouth would always be enough.

 

As luck would have it, it didn’t have to be.

 

Steve deepened the kiss, his free hand skimming up the remainder of Bucky’s thigh to press a palm to his satin-clad cock. Bucky moaned against Steve’s tongue, the contact overdue from the hours he had been waiting. The sight of Steve in that suit had been enough to make the entire evening difficult, but now all he wanted was for Steve to keep touching him.

 

Pulling back from Bucky’s mouth, Steve nudged Bucky’s thighs wider. Steve took his time, kissing along every inch of exposed skin between the stocking and garter belt, circling Bucky’s cock and making him squirm with need. The hand returned, cupping Bucky through the satin of the panties, making him groan with impatience. Steve took note, dipping his head once more to run his tongue along Bucky’s length through the fabric.

 

Bucky couldn’t keep still at the sensation, hips rolling to meet Steve’s mouth as he saturated the panties in saliva, increasing the friction against Bucky’s sensitive skin. “Steve,” Bucky panted as he wound his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair. “Fuck, that feels so good.”

 

Steve didn’t answer him, tugging the fabric aside to free Bucky’s cock and rocking back on his heels to admire the view.

 

“Haven’t you seen it enough times now?” Bucky joked as he watched Steve, one hand still tangled in Steve’s hair.

 

“Never,” Steve proclaimed deftly.

 

That was all he said before swallowing Bucky to the hilt, causing Bucky to shudder against Steve’s mouth. Losing his grip on Steve’s hair, Bucky opted for the armrests of the chair, wanting anything to anchor him as Steve’s tongue worked along the length of his cock.

 

“Never a better view,” Bucky breathed in encouragement, eyes fixated on Steve. As his boyfriend pulled off for air, he added, “You haven't even seen the best part of my outfit.”

 

Raising an eyebrow, Steve took the bait, leaning back to look up as Bucky stood. “It looks like a pretty nice view to me,” Steve said doubtfully.

 

Bucky turned around, bending at the waist to give Steve a view of what he had been missing. Although the panties appeared to be satin in the front, they were sheer in the back, and wrapped around a ribbon-trimmed slit.

 

“Is that--”

 

“So I can keep them on,” Bucky replied wickedly.

 

“Stay right there,” Steve choked, standing up and nearly tripping out of his own briefs in his haste. “Where’s the lube?”

 

“Side of the bed,” Bucky said coolly, slipping a hand to his cock and stroking it leisurely. “If you take too long, maybe I’ll just--”

 

Bucky didn’t even get a chance to finish his statement before his hand was swatted away, replaced by one of Steve’s.

 

“How do you expect to do everything one-handed?” Bucky teased, moaning as Steve squeezed.

 

“‘S not the first time.” Steve’s voice was muffled, like he was opening the bottle with his teeth.

 

An affirming click told Bucky all he needed to know, just before he felt Steve’s wet fingers probing between his cheeks. Bucky let his head fall forward against the chair, moaning louder as Steve's fingers worked him slowly open. “Stevie, Stevie, Stevie,” he chanted with each thrust of Steve’s fingers. “I need more.”

 

“You don’t have to ask twice,” Steve growled as he pulled his fingers away, leaving Bucky to whine as he slicked his cock.

 

Bucky wasn’t left wanting for long, as the hand that had been stroking his cock released just long enough to come back slicked with lube as well. Steve gripped the head of Bucky’s cock just as he pushed in, rocking forward an inch at a time while stroking. With every inch forward Bucky’s cries became louder, begging for Steve to go deeper. Steve obliged, sheathing himself inside Bucky and leaning forward to press a kiss to the back of Bucky’s neck before he picked up the pace.

 

“Are you keeping the outfit?” Steve teased as he landed a cupped hand against Bucky’s ass.

 

“Only if you keep reactin’ like this.”

 

Steve spanked him again, moaning himself at the sound of Bucky’s ecstasy. Slipping an arm around Bucky’s waist, Steve pulled him up straighter, leaving him almost parallel. Every thrust felt that much deeper, tighter, from this position. Bucky’s back arched, but Steve pulled him closer, both arms wrapping around Bucky’s chest to hold him close.

 

“Steve, wait,” Bucky called.

 

Almost immediately, Steve stilled, grip loosening. “What’s wrong?” he pressed. “Did I hurt you?”

 

“No,” Bucky shook his head, pulling off of Steve’s cock with a quiet yelp of loss. “But you’re havin’ all the fun.”

 

Steve’s grin was all mischief as he allowed Bucky to guide him to the bed, nudging him further and further backward until Steve was laying down. Climbing up beside him, Bucky swung a leg over Steve’s hips to straddle him, sinking down on Steve’s cock once more.

 

“Much better,” Bucky sighed, rising and falling as he sought a new rhythm.

 

Now it was Steve’s turn to enjoy, as Bucky’s hands skittered from Steve’s hips up the expanse of his chest. It felt empowering, being the one on top of Steve, drawing forth every moan with calculated motions.

 

Bucky drew Steve’s hand upwards, wrapping it around his cock.

 

“Together,” Bucky whispered, grinding down harder.

 

Steve’s grip tightened, urging Bucky closer. “Bucky, I'm close,” Steve warned throatily.

 

“Me too,” Bucky choked out, losing all rhythm as he ground down on Steve, losing himself in the sensation of Steve’s thumb stroking against the head of his cock just before he felt Steve’s hips stutter under him. Bucky lost his careful balance, slumping forward just as he painted Steve’s chest with cum.

 

Later, though he couldn’t say how long, when Steve rolled out from under him to get them both towels, Bucky couldn’t help but laugh.

 

“What’s so funny?” Steve asked curiously as he tossed a damp hand towel into Bucky’s waiting metal hand.

 

“We both have an outfit-- but mine isn’t safe for public view.”

 

Bucky couldn’t remember Steve’s rebuttal before he felt the assault of fingertips in his ribs, tickling him in retaliation.


End file.
